The fields that
together
contentedly lay
Would have done us more good than another man's gold MS.
Would have done us more good than another man's gold MS.
William Wordsworth
"
This statement is much more than improbable; it is, I think, disproved
by the Fenwick note. They cannot refer to the "Lucy" of the Goslar
poems; and Wordsworth indicates, as plainly as he chose, to whom they
actually do refer. Compare the Hon. Justice Coleridge's account of a
conversation with Wordsworth ('Memoirs', vol. ii. p. 306), in which the
poet expressly said that the lines were written on his wife. The
question was, however, set at rest in a conversation of Wordsworth with
Henry Crabb Robinson, who wrote in his 'Diary' on
"May 12 (1842). --Wordsworth said that the poems 'Our walk was far
among the ancient trees' [vol. ii. p. 167], then 'She was a Phantom of
delight,' [B] and finally the two sonnets 'To a Painter', should be
read in succession as exhibiting the different phases of his affection
to his wife. "
('Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence of Henry Crabb Robinson',
vol. iii. p. 197. )
The use of the word "machine," in the third stanza of the poem, has been
much criticised, but for a similar use of the term, see the sequel to
'The Waggoner' (p. 107):
'Forgive me, then; for I had been
On friendly terms with this Machine. '
See also 'Hamlet' (act II. scene ii. l. 124):
'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him. '
The progress of mechanical industry in Britain since the beginning of
the present century has given a more limited, and purely technical,
meaning to the word, than it bore when Wordsworth used it in these two
instances. --Ed.
[Footnote B: The poet expressly told me that these verses were on his
wife. --H. C. R. ]
* * * * *
"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD"
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Town-end, 1804. The two best lines in it are by Mary. The daffodils
grew, and still grow, on the margin of Ullswater, and probably may be
seen to this day as beautiful in the month of March, nodding their
golden heads beside the dancing and foaming waves. --I. F. ]
This was No. VII. in the series of Poems, entitled, in the edition of
1807, "Moods of my own Mind. " In 1815, and afterwards, it was classed by
Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Imagination. "--Ed.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden [1] daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 5
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. [2]
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay: 10
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. [3]
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, [4] 15
In such a jocund [5] company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood, 20
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815.
. . . dancing . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1815.
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze. 1807]
[Variant 3: This stanza was added in the edition of 1815. ]
[Variant 4:
1807
. . . be but gay, 1836.
The 1840 edition returns to the text of 1807. ]
[Variant 5:
1815.
. . . laughing . . . 1807. ]
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, under date,
Thursday, April 15, 1802:
"When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park, we saw a few
daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the sea had floated
the seeds ashore, and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as
we went along there were more, and yet more; and, at last, under the
boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along
the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw
daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones, about and
above them; some rested their heads upon these stones, as on a pillow
for weariness; and the rest tossed and reeled and danced, and seemed
as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the
lake. They looked so gay, ever glancing, ever changing. This wind blew
directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little
knot, and a few stragglers higher up; but they were so few as not to
disturb the simplicity, unity, and life of that one busy highway. We
rested again and again. The bays were stormy, and we heard the waves
at different distances, and in the middle of the water, like the
sea. . . . "
In the edition of 1815 there is a footnote to the lines
'They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude'
to the following effect:
"The subject of these Stanzas is rather an elementary feeling and
simple impression (approaching to the nature of an ocular spectrum)
upon the imaginative faculty, than an exertion of it. The one which
follows [A] is strictly a Reverie; and neither that, nor the next
after it in succession, 'Power of Music', would have been placed here
except for the reason given in the foregoing note. "
The being "placed here" refers to its being included among the "Poems of
the Imagination. " The "foregoing note" is the note appended to 'The Horn
of Egremont Castle'; and the "reason given" in it is "to avoid a
needless multiplication of the Classes" into which Wordsworth divided
his poems. This note of 181? [B], is reprinted mainly to show the
difficulties to which Wordsworth was reduced by the artificial method of
arrangement referred to. The following letter to Mr. Wrangham is a more
appropriate illustration of the poem of "The Daffodils. " It was written,
the late Bishop of Lincoln says, "sometime afterwards. " (See 'Memoirs of
Wordsworth', vol. i. pp. 183, 184); and, for the whole of the letter,
see a subsequent volume of this edition.
"GRASMERE, Nov. 4.
"MY DEAR WRANGHAM,--I am indeed much pleased that Mrs. Wrangham and
yourself have been gratified by these breathings of simple nature. You
mention Butler, Montagu's friend; not Tom Butler, but the conveyancer:
when I was in town in spring, he happened to see the volumes lying on
Montagu's mantelpiece, and to glance his eye upon the very poem of
'The Daffodils. ' 'Aye,' says he, 'a fine morsel this for the
Reviewers. ' When this was told me (for I was not present) I observed
that there were 'two lines' in that little poem which, if thoroughly
felt, would annihilate nine-tenths of the reviews of the kingdom, as
they would find no readers. The lines I alluded to were these:
'They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude. '"
These two lines were composed by Mrs. Wordsworth. In 1877 the daffodils
were still growing in abundance on the shore of Ullswater, below
Gowbarrow Park.
Compare the last four lines of James Montgomery's poem, 'The Little
Cloud':
'Bliss in possession will not last:
Remembered joys are never past:
At once the fountain, stream, and sea,
They were--they are--they yet shall be. '
Ed.
[Footnote A: It was 'The Reverie of Poor Susan'. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: This is an error in the original printed text. Evidently a
year before the above-mentioned publication in 1815: one of 1810-1815.
text Ed. ]
* * * * *
THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET--[A]
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. This was taken from the case of a poor
widow who lived in the town of Penrith. Her sorrow was well known to
Mrs. Wordsworth, to my sister, and, I believe, to the whole town. She
kept a shop, and when she saw a stranger passing by, she was in the
habit of going out into the street to enquire of him after her
son. --I. F. ]
Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems founded on the Affections. "--Ed.
I Where art thou, my beloved Son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone!
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same 5
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
II Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child;
To have despaired, have hoped, believed, 10
And been for evermore beguiled; [1]
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss;
Was ever darkness like to this?
III He was among the prime in worth, 15
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred; I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:
If things ensued that wanted grace,
As hath been said, they were not base; 20
And never blush was on my face.
IV Ah! little doth the young-one dream,
When full of play and childish cares,
What power is in [2] his wildest scream,
Heard by his mother unawares! 25
He knows it not, he cannot guess:
Years to a mother bring distress;
But do not make her love the less.
V Neglect me! no, I suffered long
From that ill thought; and, being blind, 30
Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong:
Kind mother have I been, as kind
As ever breathed:" and that is true;
I've wet my path with tears like dew,
Weeping for him when no one knew. 35
VI My Son, if thou be humbled, poor,
Hopeless of honour and of gain,
Oh! do not dread thy mother's door;
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes; 40
And worldly grandeur I despise,
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
VII Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,
And blasts of heaven will aid their flight;
They mount--how short a voyage brings 45
The wanderers back to their delight!
Chains tie us down by land and sea;
And wishes, vain as mine, may be
All that is left to comfort thee.
VIII Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, 50
Maimed, mangled by inhuman men;
Or thou upon a desert thrown
Inheritest the lion's den;
Or hast been summoned to the deep,
Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep 55
An incommunicable sleep.
IX I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me: 'tis falsely said
That there was ever intercourse
Between [3] the living and the dead; 60
For, surely, then I should have sight
Of him I wait for day and night,
With love and longings infinite.
X My apprehensions come in crowds;
I dread the rustling of the grass; 65
The very shadows of the clouds
Have power to shake me as they pass:
I question things and do not find
One that will answer to my mind;
And all the world appears unkind. 70
XI Beyond participation lie
My troubles, and beyond relief:
If any chance to heave a sigh,
They pity me, and not my grief.
Then come to me, my Son, or send 75
Some tidings that my woes may end;
I have no other earthly friend!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
To have despair'd, and have believ'd,
And be for evermore beguil'd; 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1832.
What power hath even . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1832.
Betwixt . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In the edition of 1807, the title was 'The Affliction of
Margaret--of--'; in 1820, it was 'The Affliction of Margaret'; and in
1845, it was as above. In an early MS. it was 'The Affliction of
Mary--of--'. For an as yet unpublished Preface to it, see volume viii.
of this edition. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
THE FORSAKEN
Composed 1804. --Published 1842
[This was an overflow from 'The Affliction of Margaret', and was
excluded as superfluous there, but preserved in the faint hope that it
may turn to account by restoring a shy lover to some forsaken damsel. My
poetry has been complained of as deficient in interests of this sort,--a
charge which the piece beginning, "Lyre! though such power do in thy
magic live," will scarcely tend to obviate. The natural imagery of these
verses was supplied by frequent, I might say intense, observation of the
Rydal torrent. What an animating contrast is the ever-changing aspect of
that, and indeed of every one of our mountain brooks, to the monotonous
tone and unmitigated fury of such streams among the Alps as are fed all
the summer long by glaciers and melting snows. A traveller observing the
exquisite purity of the great rivers, such as the Rhone at Geneva, and
the Reuss at Lucerne, when they issue out of their respective lakes,
might fancy for a moment that some power in nature produced this
beautiful change, with a view to make amends for those Alpine sullyings
which the waters exhibit near their fountain heads; but, alas! how soon
does that purity depart before the influx of tributary waters that have
flowed through cultivated plains and the crowded abodes of men. --I. F. ]
Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems founded on the Affections. "--Ed.
The peace which others seek they find;
The heaviest storms not longest last;
Heaven grants even to the guiltiest mind
An amnesty for what is past;
When will my sentence be reversed? 5
I only pray to know the worst;
And wish as if my heart would burst.
O weary struggle! silent years
Tell seemingly no doubtful tale;
And yet they leave it short, and fears 10
And hopes are strong and will prevail.
My calmest faith escapes not pain;
And, feeling that the hope is vain,
I think that he will come again.
* * * * *
REPENTANCE
A PASTORAL BALLAD
Composed 1804. --Published 1820
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. Suggested by the conversation of our
next neighbour, Margaret Ashburner. --I. F. ]
This "next neighbour" is constantly referred to in Dorothy Wordsworth's
Grasmere Journal.
Included in 1820 among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection"; in 1827,
and afterwards, it was classed with those "founded on the
Affections. "--Ed.
The fields which with covetous spirit we sold,
Those beautiful fields, the delight of the day,
Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold, [1]
Could we but have been as contented as they.
When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I, 5
"Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand;
But, Allan, be true to me, Allan,--we'll die [2]
Before he shall go with an inch of the land! "
There dwelt we, as happy as birds in their bowers;
Unfettered as bees that in gardens abide; 10
We could do what we liked [3] with the land, it was ours;
And for us the brook murmured that ran by its side.
But now we are strangers, go early or late;
And often, like one overburthened with sin,
With my hand on the latch of the half-opened gate, [4] 15
I look at the fields, but [5] I cannot go in!
When I walk by the hedge on a bright summer's day,
Or sit in the shade of my grandfather's tree,
A stern face it puts on, as if ready to say,
"What ails you, that you must come creeping to me! " 20
With our pastures about us, we could not be sad;
Our comfort was near if we ever were crost;
But the comfort, the blessings, and wealth that we had,
We slighted them all,--and our birth-right was lost. [6]
Oh, ill-judging sire of an innocent son 25
Who must now be a wanderer! but peace to that strain!
Think of evening's repose when our labour was done,
The sabbath's return; and its leisure's soft chain!
And in sickness, if night had been sparing of sleep,
How cheerful, at sunrise, the hill where I stood, [7] 30
Looking down on the kine, and our treasure of sheep
That besprinkled the field; 'twas like youth in my blood!
Now I cleave to the house, and am dull as a snail;
And, oftentimes, hear the church-bell with a sigh,
That follows the thought--We've no land in the vale, 35
Save six feet of earth where our forefathers lie!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
the delight of our day, MS.
O fools that we were--we had land which we sold MS.
O fools that we were without virtue to hold MS.
The fields that together contentedly lay
Would have done us more good than another man's gold MS. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
When the bribe of the Tempter beset us, said I,
Let him come with his bags proudly grasped in his hand.
But, Thomas, be true to me, Thomas, we'll die MS. ]
[Variant 3:
1836.
. . . chose . . . 1820 and MS. ]
[Variant 4:
1820.
When my hand has half-lifted the latch of the gate, MS. ]
[Variant 5:
1820.
. . . and . . . MS. ]
[Variant 6:
1827.
But the blessings, and comfort, and wealth that we had,
We slighted them all,--and our birth-right was lost.
1820 and MS.
But we traitorously gave the best friend that we had
For spiritless pelf--as we felt to our cost! MS. ]
[Variant 7:
1820.
When my sick crazy body had lain without sleep,
How cheering the sunshiny vale where I stood, MS. ]
* * * * *
ADDRESS TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER, DORA, [A]
ON BEING REMINDED THAT SHE WAS A MONTH OLD THAT DAY, SEPTEMBER 16
Composed September 16, 1804. --Published 1815
Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Fancy. "--Ed.
--Hast thou then survived--
Mild Offspring of infirm humanity,
Meek Infant! among all forlornest things
The most forlorn--one life of that bright star,
The second glory of the Heavens? --Thou hast; 5
Already hast survived that great decay,
That transformation through the wide earth felt,
And by all nations. In that Being's sight
From whom the Race of human kind proceed,
A thousand years are but as yesterday; 10
And one day's narrow circuit is to Him
Not less capacious than a thousand years.
But what is time? What outward glory? neither
A measure is of Thee, whose claims extend
Through "heaven's eternal year. " [B]--Yet hail to Thee, 15
Frail, feeble, Monthling! --by that name, methinks,
Thy scanty breathing-time is portioned out
Not idly. --Hadst thou been of Indian birth,
Couched on a casual bed of moss and leaves,
And rudely canopied by leafy boughs, 20
Or to the churlish elements exposed
On the blank plains,--the coldness of the night,
Or the night's darkness, or its cheerful face
Of beauty, by the changing moon adorned,
Would, with imperious admonition, then 25
Have scored thine age, and punctually timed
Thine infant history, on the minds of those
Who might have wandered with thee. --Mother's love,
Nor less than mother's love in other breasts,
Will, among us warm-clad and warmly housed, 30
Do for thee what the finger of the heavens
Doth all too often harshly execute
For thy unblest coevals, amid wilds
Where fancy hath small liberty to grace
The affections, to exalt them or refine; 35
And the maternal sympathy itself,
Though strong, is, in the main, a joyless tie
Of naked instinct, wound about the heart.
Happier, far happier is thy lot and ours!
Even now--to solemnise thy helpless state, 40
And to enliven in the mind's regard
Thy passive beauty--parallels have risen,
Resemblances, or contrasts, that connect,
Within the region of a father's thoughts,
Thee and thy mate and sister of the sky. 45
And first;--thy sinless progress, through a world
By sorrow darkened and by care disturbed,
Apt likeness bears to hers, through gathered clouds,
Moving untouched in silver purity,
And cheering oft-times their reluctant gloom. 50
Fair are ye both, and both are free from stain:
But thou, how leisurely thou fill'st thy horn
With brightness! leaving her to post along,
And range about, disquieted in change,
And still impatient of the shape she wears. 55
Once up, once down the hill, one journey, Babe
That will suffice thee; and it seems that now
Thou hast fore-knowledge that such task is thine;
Thou travellest so contentedly, and sleep'st
In such a heedless peace. Alas! full soon 60
Hath this conception, grateful to behold,
Changed countenance, like an object sullied o'er
By breathing mist; and thine appears to be
A mournful labour, while to her is given
Hope, and a renovation without end. 65
--That smile forbids the thought; for on thy face
Smiles are beginning, like the beams of dawn,
To shoot and circulate; smiles have there been seen;
Tranquil assurances that Heaven supports
The feeble motions of thy life, and cheers 70
Thy loneliness: or shall those smiles be called
Feelers of love, put forth as if to explore
This untried world, and to prepare thy way
Through a strait passage intricate and dim?
Such are they; and the same are tokens, signs, 75
Which, when the appointed season hath arrived,
Joy, as her holiest language, shall adopt;
And Reason's godlike Power be proud to own.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The title from 1815 to 1845 was 'Address to my Infant
Daughter, on being reminded that she was a Month old, on that Day'.
After her death in 1847, her name was added to the title. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: See Dryden's poem, 'To the pious memory of the accomplished
young lady, Mrs. Anne Killigrew', I. l. 15. --Ed. ]
The text of this poem was never altered. --Ed.
* * * * *
THE KITTEN AND FALLING LEAVES [A]
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Seen at Town-end, Grasmere. The elder-bush has long since disappeared;
it hung over the wall near the cottage: and the kitten continued to leap
up, catching the leaves as here described. The Infant was Dora. --J. F. ]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy. " In Henry Crabb Robinson's 'Diary,
etc. ', under date Sept. 10, 1816, we find,
"He" (Wordsworth) "quoted from 'The Kitten and the Falling Leaves' to
show he had connected even the kitten with the great, awful, and
mysterious powers of Nature. "
Ed.
That way look, my Infant, [1] lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the Kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves--one--two--and three--5
From the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty [2] air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think, 10
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending,--
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute, 15
In his wavering parachute.
----But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts! [3]
First at one, and then its fellow
Just as light and just as yellow; 20
There are many now--now one--
Now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half-way 25
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer; 30
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare, 35
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd?
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure! 40
'Tis a pretty baby-treat;
Nor, I deem, for me unmeet; [4]
Here, for neither Babe nor [5] me,
Other play-mate can I see.
Of the countless living things, 45
That with stir of feet and wings
(In the sun or under shade,
Upon bough or grassy blade)
And with busy revellings,
Chirp and song, and murmurings, 50
Made this orchard's narrow space,
And this vale so blithe a place;
Multitudes are swept away
Never more to breathe the day:
Some are sleeping; some in bands 55
Travelled into distant lands;
Others slunk to moor and wood,
Far from human neighbourhood;
And, among the Kinds that keep
With us closer fellowship, 60
With us openly abide,
All have laid their mirth aside.
Where is he that giddy [6] Sprite,
Blue-cap, with his colours bright,
Who was blest as bird could be, 65
Feeding in the apple-tree;
Made such wanton spoil and rout,
Turning blossoms inside out;
Hung--head pointing towards the ground--[7]
Fluttered, perched, into a round 70
Bound himself, and then unbound;
Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin!
Prettiest tumbler ever seen!
Light of heart and light of limb;
What is now become of Him? 75
Lambs, that through the mountains went
Frisking, bleating merriment,
When the year was in its prime,
They are sobered by this time.
If you look to vale or [8] hill, 80
If you listen, all is still,
Save a little neighbouring rill,
That from out the rocky ground
Strikes a solitary sound.
Vainly glitter [9] hill and plain, 85
And the air is calm in vain;
Vainly Morning spreads the lure
Of a sky serene and pure;
Creature none can she decoy
Into open sign of joy: 90
Is it that they have a fear
Of the dreary season near?
Or that other pleasures be
Sweeter even than gaiety?
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell 95
In the impenetrable cell
Of the silent heart which Nature
Furnishes to every creature;
Whatsoe'er we feel and know
Too sedate for outward show, 100
Such a light of gladness breaks,
Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks,--
Spreads with such a living grace
O'er my little Dora's [10] face;
Yes, the sight so stirs and charms 105
Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms,
That almost I could repine
That your transports are not mine,
That I do not wholly fare
Even as ye do, thoughtless pair! [11] 110
And I will have my careless season
Spite of melancholy reason, [12]
Will walk through life in such a way
That, when time brings on decay,
Now and then I may possess 115
Hours of perfect gladsomeness. [13]
--Pleased by any random toy;
By a kitten's busy joy,
Or an infant's laughing eye
Sharing in the ecstasy; 120
I would fare like that or this,
Find my wisdom in my bliss;
Keep the sprightly soul awake,
And have faculties to take,
Even from things [14] by sorrow wrought, 125
Matter for a jocund thought,
Spite of care, and spite of grief,
To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
. . . Darling, . . . MS. ]
[Variant 2:
. . . silent . . . MS. ]
[Variant 3:
Knows not what she would be at,
Now on this side, now on that. MS. ]
[Variant 4:
One for me, too, as is meet. MS. ]
[Variant 5:
1815.
. . . or . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
. . . busy . . . MS. ]
[Variant 7:
1836,
Hung with head towards the ground, 1807. ]
[Variant 8:
. . . and . . . MS. ]
[Variant 9:
1836.
. . . glitters . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 10:
1849.
Laura's [a] 1807]
[Variant 11: Additional lines:
But I'll take a hint from you,
And to pleasure will be true, MS. ]
[Variant 12:
Be it songs of endless Spring
Which the frolic Muses sing,
Jest, and Mirth's unruly brood
Dancing to the Phrygian mood;
Be it love, or be it wine,
Myrtle wreath, or ivy twine,
Or a garland made of both;
Whether then Philosophy
That would fill us full of glee
Seeing that our breath we draw
Under an unbending law,
That our years are halting never;
Quickly gone, and gone for ever,
And would teach us thence to brave
The conclusion in the grave;
Whether it be these that give
Strength and spirit so to live,
Or the conquest best be made,
By a sober course and staid,
I would walk in such a way, MS. ]
[Variant 13:
. . . joyousness. MS. ]
[Variant 14:
From the things by . . . MS. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In the editions of 1807-1832 the title was 'The Kitten and
the Falling Leaves'. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Dora Wordsworth died in July 1847. Probably the change
of text in 1849--one of the latest which the poet made--was due to the
wish to connect this poem with memories of his dead daughter's
childhood, and her "laughing eye. "--Ed. ]
* * * * *
THE SMALL CELANDINE [A]
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Grasmere, Town-end. It is remarkable that this flower coming out so
early in the spring as it does, and so bright and beautiful, and in such
profusion, should not have been noticed earlier in English verse. What
adds much to the interest that attends it, is its habit of shutting
itself up and opening out according to the degree of light and
temperature of the air. --I. F. ]
In pencil on opposite page "Has not Chaucer noticed it? "--W. W.
This was classed by Wordsworth among his "Poems referring to the Period
of Old Age. "-Ed.
There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,
That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain;
And, the first moment that the sun may shine,
Bright as the sun himself, [1] 'tis out again!
When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, 5
Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest,
Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm,
In close self-shelter, like a Thing at rest.
But lately, one rough day, this Flower I passed
And recognised it, though an altered form, 10
Now standing forth an offering to the blast,
And buffeted at will by rain and storm.
I stopped, and said with inly-muttered voice,
"It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold:
This neither is its courage nor its choice, 15
But its necessity in being old.
"The sunshine may not cheer [2] it, nor the dew;
It cannot help itself in its decay;
Stiff in its members, withered, changed of hue. "
And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey. 20
To be a Prodigal's Favourite--then, worse truth,
A Miser's Pensioner--behold our lot!
O Man, that from thy fair and shining youth
Age might but take the things Youth needed not!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
. . . itself, . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1827
. . . bless . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Common Pilewort. --W. W. 1807. ]
With the last stanza compare one from 'The Fountain', vol.
This statement is much more than improbable; it is, I think, disproved
by the Fenwick note. They cannot refer to the "Lucy" of the Goslar
poems; and Wordsworth indicates, as plainly as he chose, to whom they
actually do refer. Compare the Hon. Justice Coleridge's account of a
conversation with Wordsworth ('Memoirs', vol. ii. p. 306), in which the
poet expressly said that the lines were written on his wife. The
question was, however, set at rest in a conversation of Wordsworth with
Henry Crabb Robinson, who wrote in his 'Diary' on
"May 12 (1842). --Wordsworth said that the poems 'Our walk was far
among the ancient trees' [vol. ii. p. 167], then 'She was a Phantom of
delight,' [B] and finally the two sonnets 'To a Painter', should be
read in succession as exhibiting the different phases of his affection
to his wife. "
('Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence of Henry Crabb Robinson',
vol. iii. p. 197. )
The use of the word "machine," in the third stanza of the poem, has been
much criticised, but for a similar use of the term, see the sequel to
'The Waggoner' (p. 107):
'Forgive me, then; for I had been
On friendly terms with this Machine. '
See also 'Hamlet' (act II. scene ii. l. 124):
'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him. '
The progress of mechanical industry in Britain since the beginning of
the present century has given a more limited, and purely technical,
meaning to the word, than it bore when Wordsworth used it in these two
instances. --Ed.
[Footnote B: The poet expressly told me that these verses were on his
wife. --H. C. R. ]
* * * * *
"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD"
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Town-end, 1804. The two best lines in it are by Mary. The daffodils
grew, and still grow, on the margin of Ullswater, and probably may be
seen to this day as beautiful in the month of March, nodding their
golden heads beside the dancing and foaming waves. --I. F. ]
This was No. VII. in the series of Poems, entitled, in the edition of
1807, "Moods of my own Mind. " In 1815, and afterwards, it was classed by
Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Imagination. "--Ed.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden [1] daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 5
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. [2]
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay: 10
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. [3]
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, [4] 15
In such a jocund [5] company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood, 20
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815.
. . . dancing . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1815.
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze. 1807]
[Variant 3: This stanza was added in the edition of 1815. ]
[Variant 4:
1807
. . . be but gay, 1836.
The 1840 edition returns to the text of 1807. ]
[Variant 5:
1815.
. . . laughing . . . 1807. ]
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, under date,
Thursday, April 15, 1802:
"When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park, we saw a few
daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the sea had floated
the seeds ashore, and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as
we went along there were more, and yet more; and, at last, under the
boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along
the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw
daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones, about and
above them; some rested their heads upon these stones, as on a pillow
for weariness; and the rest tossed and reeled and danced, and seemed
as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the
lake. They looked so gay, ever glancing, ever changing. This wind blew
directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little
knot, and a few stragglers higher up; but they were so few as not to
disturb the simplicity, unity, and life of that one busy highway. We
rested again and again. The bays were stormy, and we heard the waves
at different distances, and in the middle of the water, like the
sea. . . . "
In the edition of 1815 there is a footnote to the lines
'They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude'
to the following effect:
"The subject of these Stanzas is rather an elementary feeling and
simple impression (approaching to the nature of an ocular spectrum)
upon the imaginative faculty, than an exertion of it. The one which
follows [A] is strictly a Reverie; and neither that, nor the next
after it in succession, 'Power of Music', would have been placed here
except for the reason given in the foregoing note. "
The being "placed here" refers to its being included among the "Poems of
the Imagination. " The "foregoing note" is the note appended to 'The Horn
of Egremont Castle'; and the "reason given" in it is "to avoid a
needless multiplication of the Classes" into which Wordsworth divided
his poems. This note of 181? [B], is reprinted mainly to show the
difficulties to which Wordsworth was reduced by the artificial method of
arrangement referred to. The following letter to Mr. Wrangham is a more
appropriate illustration of the poem of "The Daffodils. " It was written,
the late Bishop of Lincoln says, "sometime afterwards. " (See 'Memoirs of
Wordsworth', vol. i. pp. 183, 184); and, for the whole of the letter,
see a subsequent volume of this edition.
"GRASMERE, Nov. 4.
"MY DEAR WRANGHAM,--I am indeed much pleased that Mrs. Wrangham and
yourself have been gratified by these breathings of simple nature. You
mention Butler, Montagu's friend; not Tom Butler, but the conveyancer:
when I was in town in spring, he happened to see the volumes lying on
Montagu's mantelpiece, and to glance his eye upon the very poem of
'The Daffodils. ' 'Aye,' says he, 'a fine morsel this for the
Reviewers. ' When this was told me (for I was not present) I observed
that there were 'two lines' in that little poem which, if thoroughly
felt, would annihilate nine-tenths of the reviews of the kingdom, as
they would find no readers. The lines I alluded to were these:
'They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude. '"
These two lines were composed by Mrs. Wordsworth. In 1877 the daffodils
were still growing in abundance on the shore of Ullswater, below
Gowbarrow Park.
Compare the last four lines of James Montgomery's poem, 'The Little
Cloud':
'Bliss in possession will not last:
Remembered joys are never past:
At once the fountain, stream, and sea,
They were--they are--they yet shall be. '
Ed.
[Footnote A: It was 'The Reverie of Poor Susan'. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: This is an error in the original printed text. Evidently a
year before the above-mentioned publication in 1815: one of 1810-1815.
text Ed. ]
* * * * *
THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET--[A]
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. This was taken from the case of a poor
widow who lived in the town of Penrith. Her sorrow was well known to
Mrs. Wordsworth, to my sister, and, I believe, to the whole town. She
kept a shop, and when she saw a stranger passing by, she was in the
habit of going out into the street to enquire of him after her
son. --I. F. ]
Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems founded on the Affections. "--Ed.
I Where art thou, my beloved Son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone!
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same 5
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
II Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child;
To have despaired, have hoped, believed, 10
And been for evermore beguiled; [1]
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss;
Was ever darkness like to this?
III He was among the prime in worth, 15
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred; I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:
If things ensued that wanted grace,
As hath been said, they were not base; 20
And never blush was on my face.
IV Ah! little doth the young-one dream,
When full of play and childish cares,
What power is in [2] his wildest scream,
Heard by his mother unawares! 25
He knows it not, he cannot guess:
Years to a mother bring distress;
But do not make her love the less.
V Neglect me! no, I suffered long
From that ill thought; and, being blind, 30
Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong:
Kind mother have I been, as kind
As ever breathed:" and that is true;
I've wet my path with tears like dew,
Weeping for him when no one knew. 35
VI My Son, if thou be humbled, poor,
Hopeless of honour and of gain,
Oh! do not dread thy mother's door;
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes; 40
And worldly grandeur I despise,
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
VII Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,
And blasts of heaven will aid their flight;
They mount--how short a voyage brings 45
The wanderers back to their delight!
Chains tie us down by land and sea;
And wishes, vain as mine, may be
All that is left to comfort thee.
VIII Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, 50
Maimed, mangled by inhuman men;
Or thou upon a desert thrown
Inheritest the lion's den;
Or hast been summoned to the deep,
Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep 55
An incommunicable sleep.
IX I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me: 'tis falsely said
That there was ever intercourse
Between [3] the living and the dead; 60
For, surely, then I should have sight
Of him I wait for day and night,
With love and longings infinite.
X My apprehensions come in crowds;
I dread the rustling of the grass; 65
The very shadows of the clouds
Have power to shake me as they pass:
I question things and do not find
One that will answer to my mind;
And all the world appears unkind. 70
XI Beyond participation lie
My troubles, and beyond relief:
If any chance to heave a sigh,
They pity me, and not my grief.
Then come to me, my Son, or send 75
Some tidings that my woes may end;
I have no other earthly friend!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
To have despair'd, and have believ'd,
And be for evermore beguil'd; 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1832.
What power hath even . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1832.
Betwixt . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In the edition of 1807, the title was 'The Affliction of
Margaret--of--'; in 1820, it was 'The Affliction of Margaret'; and in
1845, it was as above. In an early MS. it was 'The Affliction of
Mary--of--'. For an as yet unpublished Preface to it, see volume viii.
of this edition. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
THE FORSAKEN
Composed 1804. --Published 1842
[This was an overflow from 'The Affliction of Margaret', and was
excluded as superfluous there, but preserved in the faint hope that it
may turn to account by restoring a shy lover to some forsaken damsel. My
poetry has been complained of as deficient in interests of this sort,--a
charge which the piece beginning, "Lyre! though such power do in thy
magic live," will scarcely tend to obviate. The natural imagery of these
verses was supplied by frequent, I might say intense, observation of the
Rydal torrent. What an animating contrast is the ever-changing aspect of
that, and indeed of every one of our mountain brooks, to the monotonous
tone and unmitigated fury of such streams among the Alps as are fed all
the summer long by glaciers and melting snows. A traveller observing the
exquisite purity of the great rivers, such as the Rhone at Geneva, and
the Reuss at Lucerne, when they issue out of their respective lakes,
might fancy for a moment that some power in nature produced this
beautiful change, with a view to make amends for those Alpine sullyings
which the waters exhibit near their fountain heads; but, alas! how soon
does that purity depart before the influx of tributary waters that have
flowed through cultivated plains and the crowded abodes of men. --I. F. ]
Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems founded on the Affections. "--Ed.
The peace which others seek they find;
The heaviest storms not longest last;
Heaven grants even to the guiltiest mind
An amnesty for what is past;
When will my sentence be reversed? 5
I only pray to know the worst;
And wish as if my heart would burst.
O weary struggle! silent years
Tell seemingly no doubtful tale;
And yet they leave it short, and fears 10
And hopes are strong and will prevail.
My calmest faith escapes not pain;
And, feeling that the hope is vain,
I think that he will come again.
* * * * *
REPENTANCE
A PASTORAL BALLAD
Composed 1804. --Published 1820
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. Suggested by the conversation of our
next neighbour, Margaret Ashburner. --I. F. ]
This "next neighbour" is constantly referred to in Dorothy Wordsworth's
Grasmere Journal.
Included in 1820 among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection"; in 1827,
and afterwards, it was classed with those "founded on the
Affections. "--Ed.
The fields which with covetous spirit we sold,
Those beautiful fields, the delight of the day,
Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold, [1]
Could we but have been as contented as they.
When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I, 5
"Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand;
But, Allan, be true to me, Allan,--we'll die [2]
Before he shall go with an inch of the land! "
There dwelt we, as happy as birds in their bowers;
Unfettered as bees that in gardens abide; 10
We could do what we liked [3] with the land, it was ours;
And for us the brook murmured that ran by its side.
But now we are strangers, go early or late;
And often, like one overburthened with sin,
With my hand on the latch of the half-opened gate, [4] 15
I look at the fields, but [5] I cannot go in!
When I walk by the hedge on a bright summer's day,
Or sit in the shade of my grandfather's tree,
A stern face it puts on, as if ready to say,
"What ails you, that you must come creeping to me! " 20
With our pastures about us, we could not be sad;
Our comfort was near if we ever were crost;
But the comfort, the blessings, and wealth that we had,
We slighted them all,--and our birth-right was lost. [6]
Oh, ill-judging sire of an innocent son 25
Who must now be a wanderer! but peace to that strain!
Think of evening's repose when our labour was done,
The sabbath's return; and its leisure's soft chain!
And in sickness, if night had been sparing of sleep,
How cheerful, at sunrise, the hill where I stood, [7] 30
Looking down on the kine, and our treasure of sheep
That besprinkled the field; 'twas like youth in my blood!
Now I cleave to the house, and am dull as a snail;
And, oftentimes, hear the church-bell with a sigh,
That follows the thought--We've no land in the vale, 35
Save six feet of earth where our forefathers lie!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
the delight of our day, MS.
O fools that we were--we had land which we sold MS.
O fools that we were without virtue to hold MS.
The fields that together contentedly lay
Would have done us more good than another man's gold MS. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
When the bribe of the Tempter beset us, said I,
Let him come with his bags proudly grasped in his hand.
But, Thomas, be true to me, Thomas, we'll die MS. ]
[Variant 3:
1836.
. . . chose . . . 1820 and MS. ]
[Variant 4:
1820.
When my hand has half-lifted the latch of the gate, MS. ]
[Variant 5:
1820.
. . . and . . . MS. ]
[Variant 6:
1827.
But the blessings, and comfort, and wealth that we had,
We slighted them all,--and our birth-right was lost.
1820 and MS.
But we traitorously gave the best friend that we had
For spiritless pelf--as we felt to our cost! MS. ]
[Variant 7:
1820.
When my sick crazy body had lain without sleep,
How cheering the sunshiny vale where I stood, MS. ]
* * * * *
ADDRESS TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER, DORA, [A]
ON BEING REMINDED THAT SHE WAS A MONTH OLD THAT DAY, SEPTEMBER 16
Composed September 16, 1804. --Published 1815
Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Fancy. "--Ed.
--Hast thou then survived--
Mild Offspring of infirm humanity,
Meek Infant! among all forlornest things
The most forlorn--one life of that bright star,
The second glory of the Heavens? --Thou hast; 5
Already hast survived that great decay,
That transformation through the wide earth felt,
And by all nations. In that Being's sight
From whom the Race of human kind proceed,
A thousand years are but as yesterday; 10
And one day's narrow circuit is to Him
Not less capacious than a thousand years.
But what is time? What outward glory? neither
A measure is of Thee, whose claims extend
Through "heaven's eternal year. " [B]--Yet hail to Thee, 15
Frail, feeble, Monthling! --by that name, methinks,
Thy scanty breathing-time is portioned out
Not idly. --Hadst thou been of Indian birth,
Couched on a casual bed of moss and leaves,
And rudely canopied by leafy boughs, 20
Or to the churlish elements exposed
On the blank plains,--the coldness of the night,
Or the night's darkness, or its cheerful face
Of beauty, by the changing moon adorned,
Would, with imperious admonition, then 25
Have scored thine age, and punctually timed
Thine infant history, on the minds of those
Who might have wandered with thee. --Mother's love,
Nor less than mother's love in other breasts,
Will, among us warm-clad and warmly housed, 30
Do for thee what the finger of the heavens
Doth all too often harshly execute
For thy unblest coevals, amid wilds
Where fancy hath small liberty to grace
The affections, to exalt them or refine; 35
And the maternal sympathy itself,
Though strong, is, in the main, a joyless tie
Of naked instinct, wound about the heart.
Happier, far happier is thy lot and ours!
Even now--to solemnise thy helpless state, 40
And to enliven in the mind's regard
Thy passive beauty--parallels have risen,
Resemblances, or contrasts, that connect,
Within the region of a father's thoughts,
Thee and thy mate and sister of the sky. 45
And first;--thy sinless progress, through a world
By sorrow darkened and by care disturbed,
Apt likeness bears to hers, through gathered clouds,
Moving untouched in silver purity,
And cheering oft-times their reluctant gloom. 50
Fair are ye both, and both are free from stain:
But thou, how leisurely thou fill'st thy horn
With brightness! leaving her to post along,
And range about, disquieted in change,
And still impatient of the shape she wears. 55
Once up, once down the hill, one journey, Babe
That will suffice thee; and it seems that now
Thou hast fore-knowledge that such task is thine;
Thou travellest so contentedly, and sleep'st
In such a heedless peace. Alas! full soon 60
Hath this conception, grateful to behold,
Changed countenance, like an object sullied o'er
By breathing mist; and thine appears to be
A mournful labour, while to her is given
Hope, and a renovation without end. 65
--That smile forbids the thought; for on thy face
Smiles are beginning, like the beams of dawn,
To shoot and circulate; smiles have there been seen;
Tranquil assurances that Heaven supports
The feeble motions of thy life, and cheers 70
Thy loneliness: or shall those smiles be called
Feelers of love, put forth as if to explore
This untried world, and to prepare thy way
Through a strait passage intricate and dim?
Such are they; and the same are tokens, signs, 75
Which, when the appointed season hath arrived,
Joy, as her holiest language, shall adopt;
And Reason's godlike Power be proud to own.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The title from 1815 to 1845 was 'Address to my Infant
Daughter, on being reminded that she was a Month old, on that Day'.
After her death in 1847, her name was added to the title. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: See Dryden's poem, 'To the pious memory of the accomplished
young lady, Mrs. Anne Killigrew', I. l. 15. --Ed. ]
The text of this poem was never altered. --Ed.
* * * * *
THE KITTEN AND FALLING LEAVES [A]
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Seen at Town-end, Grasmere. The elder-bush has long since disappeared;
it hung over the wall near the cottage: and the kitten continued to leap
up, catching the leaves as here described. The Infant was Dora. --J. F. ]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy. " In Henry Crabb Robinson's 'Diary,
etc. ', under date Sept. 10, 1816, we find,
"He" (Wordsworth) "quoted from 'The Kitten and the Falling Leaves' to
show he had connected even the kitten with the great, awful, and
mysterious powers of Nature. "
Ed.
That way look, my Infant, [1] lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the Kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves--one--two--and three--5
From the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty [2] air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think, 10
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending,--
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute, 15
In his wavering parachute.
----But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts! [3]
First at one, and then its fellow
Just as light and just as yellow; 20
There are many now--now one--
Now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half-way 25
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer; 30
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare, 35
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd?
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure! 40
'Tis a pretty baby-treat;
Nor, I deem, for me unmeet; [4]
Here, for neither Babe nor [5] me,
Other play-mate can I see.
Of the countless living things, 45
That with stir of feet and wings
(In the sun or under shade,
Upon bough or grassy blade)
And with busy revellings,
Chirp and song, and murmurings, 50
Made this orchard's narrow space,
And this vale so blithe a place;
Multitudes are swept away
Never more to breathe the day:
Some are sleeping; some in bands 55
Travelled into distant lands;
Others slunk to moor and wood,
Far from human neighbourhood;
And, among the Kinds that keep
With us closer fellowship, 60
With us openly abide,
All have laid their mirth aside.
Where is he that giddy [6] Sprite,
Blue-cap, with his colours bright,
Who was blest as bird could be, 65
Feeding in the apple-tree;
Made such wanton spoil and rout,
Turning blossoms inside out;
Hung--head pointing towards the ground--[7]
Fluttered, perched, into a round 70
Bound himself, and then unbound;
Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin!
Prettiest tumbler ever seen!
Light of heart and light of limb;
What is now become of Him? 75
Lambs, that through the mountains went
Frisking, bleating merriment,
When the year was in its prime,
They are sobered by this time.
If you look to vale or [8] hill, 80
If you listen, all is still,
Save a little neighbouring rill,
That from out the rocky ground
Strikes a solitary sound.
Vainly glitter [9] hill and plain, 85
And the air is calm in vain;
Vainly Morning spreads the lure
Of a sky serene and pure;
Creature none can she decoy
Into open sign of joy: 90
Is it that they have a fear
Of the dreary season near?
Or that other pleasures be
Sweeter even than gaiety?
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell 95
In the impenetrable cell
Of the silent heart which Nature
Furnishes to every creature;
Whatsoe'er we feel and know
Too sedate for outward show, 100
Such a light of gladness breaks,
Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks,--
Spreads with such a living grace
O'er my little Dora's [10] face;
Yes, the sight so stirs and charms 105
Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms,
That almost I could repine
That your transports are not mine,
That I do not wholly fare
Even as ye do, thoughtless pair! [11] 110
And I will have my careless season
Spite of melancholy reason, [12]
Will walk through life in such a way
That, when time brings on decay,
Now and then I may possess 115
Hours of perfect gladsomeness. [13]
--Pleased by any random toy;
By a kitten's busy joy,
Or an infant's laughing eye
Sharing in the ecstasy; 120
I would fare like that or this,
Find my wisdom in my bliss;
Keep the sprightly soul awake,
And have faculties to take,
Even from things [14] by sorrow wrought, 125
Matter for a jocund thought,
Spite of care, and spite of grief,
To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
. . . Darling, . . . MS. ]
[Variant 2:
. . . silent . . . MS. ]
[Variant 3:
Knows not what she would be at,
Now on this side, now on that. MS. ]
[Variant 4:
One for me, too, as is meet. MS. ]
[Variant 5:
1815.
. . . or . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
. . . busy . . . MS. ]
[Variant 7:
1836,
Hung with head towards the ground, 1807. ]
[Variant 8:
. . . and . . . MS. ]
[Variant 9:
1836.
. . . glitters . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 10:
1849.
Laura's [a] 1807]
[Variant 11: Additional lines:
But I'll take a hint from you,
And to pleasure will be true, MS. ]
[Variant 12:
Be it songs of endless Spring
Which the frolic Muses sing,
Jest, and Mirth's unruly brood
Dancing to the Phrygian mood;
Be it love, or be it wine,
Myrtle wreath, or ivy twine,
Or a garland made of both;
Whether then Philosophy
That would fill us full of glee
Seeing that our breath we draw
Under an unbending law,
That our years are halting never;
Quickly gone, and gone for ever,
And would teach us thence to brave
The conclusion in the grave;
Whether it be these that give
Strength and spirit so to live,
Or the conquest best be made,
By a sober course and staid,
I would walk in such a way, MS. ]
[Variant 13:
. . . joyousness. MS. ]
[Variant 14:
From the things by . . . MS. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In the editions of 1807-1832 the title was 'The Kitten and
the Falling Leaves'. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Dora Wordsworth died in July 1847. Probably the change
of text in 1849--one of the latest which the poet made--was due to the
wish to connect this poem with memories of his dead daughter's
childhood, and her "laughing eye. "--Ed. ]
* * * * *
THE SMALL CELANDINE [A]
Composed 1804. --Published 1807
[Grasmere, Town-end. It is remarkable that this flower coming out so
early in the spring as it does, and so bright and beautiful, and in such
profusion, should not have been noticed earlier in English verse. What
adds much to the interest that attends it, is its habit of shutting
itself up and opening out according to the degree of light and
temperature of the air. --I. F. ]
In pencil on opposite page "Has not Chaucer noticed it? "--W. W.
This was classed by Wordsworth among his "Poems referring to the Period
of Old Age. "-Ed.
There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,
That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain;
And, the first moment that the sun may shine,
Bright as the sun himself, [1] 'tis out again!
When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, 5
Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest,
Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm,
In close self-shelter, like a Thing at rest.
But lately, one rough day, this Flower I passed
And recognised it, though an altered form, 10
Now standing forth an offering to the blast,
And buffeted at will by rain and storm.
I stopped, and said with inly-muttered voice,
"It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold:
This neither is its courage nor its choice, 15
But its necessity in being old.
"The sunshine may not cheer [2] it, nor the dew;
It cannot help itself in its decay;
Stiff in its members, withered, changed of hue. "
And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey. 20
To be a Prodigal's Favourite--then, worse truth,
A Miser's Pensioner--behold our lot!
O Man, that from thy fair and shining youth
Age might but take the things Youth needed not!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
. . . itself, . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1827
. . . bless . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Common Pilewort. --W. W. 1807. ]
With the last stanza compare one from 'The Fountain', vol.
